


Welcome to Studio MAP

by tsuristyle



Category: SMAP
Genre: ...and there's a plot here too, Crossdressing, M/M, Masturbation, Rimming, Sex Toys, mentions of BDSM, unconventional relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:06:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9118909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuristyle/pseuds/tsuristyle
Summary: Shingo snatched the document out of his hands, scanning his answers to the survey. "Preferred position-- top? Tsuyopon, I love you in a mostly platonic way, but you are totally not a top.""Hey!" Tsuyoshi rolled back towards his roommate, trying to reach around him as he grabbed the pen and turned away. "I could totally be a top if I tried! How wouldyouknow?""Trust me on this," Shingo replied, holding the contract aloft and scribbling out Tsuyoshi's answer. "And anyway, once Nakai finds a good match for you, you'll be willing to tryanything."(Hounded by loan sharks, Tsuyoshi takes the advice of his roommate and joins a porn studio owned by one Nakai Masahiro. It turns out to be one of the best decisions he's ever made. Written July 2015.)





	1. Chapter 1

The lobby was completely empty when Tsuyoshi stepped out of the elevator.  
  
He glanced around the silent room, checking his watch. Was he early? Maybe he had the wrong floor. Maybe Shingo'd given him wrong directions-- his roommate _did_ like to pull pranks on him, though he'd seemed pretty serious when they talked about it. And Tsuyoshi needed the money.  
  
He peeked down the hallway beyond the front desk, and sighed. Not a soul in sight. Maybe he should just go home after all, he really wasn't sure if he could actually go through with it--  
  
The sound of muffled voices caught his ear; it was coming from the door at the end of the hall. He hesitated, and then crept closer, reaching for the handle as curiosity got the better of him.  
  
"--harder-- more, more-- _ah_ \--"  
  
Beyond the door, in the center of a darkened, black-curtained room, was a set consisting almost entirely of a massive bed. The covers appeared to have been thrown back roughly, and in their place two extremely attractive men were fucking with equally rough abandon.  
  
"--more-- _ah_ \-- almost--"  
  
The one on all fours wrapped a hand around himself, stroking quickly and deftly; in response, the one thrusting into him moved faster, long hair tumbling forward as he gripped his partner's hips.  
  
"--now-- _ahh_ \--"  
  
The bottom came, white splashing on the dark sheets. His partner kept going, eyes shut as if trying to lose himself in the motion, harder, faster...  
  
"Cut!" The man stopped, and Tsuyoshi finally noticed the crew of filming staff hovering around the edges of the set. They had also finally noticed _him_ , from the wary looks being cast his way, and he opened his mouth with absolutely no idea what to say--  
  
"Ah. You must be Kusanagi." A voice from behind came to the rescue; he turned to find himself face-to-face with a man dressed impeccably in a suit, everything about him perfectly styled from his reddish-brown hair to his black-rimmed glasses to his shiny leather shoes. "Nakai Masahiro, company president." He held out a hand, giving Tsuyoshi an unexpectedly pleasant smile. "Welcome to Studio MAP."  
  
And so it was that Tsuyoshi began his days as a porn star.  
  
  
"So how'd it go?" Shingo, Tsuyoshi's roommate and closest thing to a best friend, flopped himself down practically on top of Tsuyoshi where he lay staring at the contract he'd been given. The last page was a survey of his... preferences. "Didja blow 'em all away with your stunning prowess and stamina?"  
  
Tsuyoshi swatted at him with his pen. "It was just an interview. The president told me to bring this back on Thursday."  
  
Shingo peered over his shoulder. "Oh, you got the short contract. Don't worry, you can always option to do more if you like it." He rubbed Tsuyoshi's bottom with a grin.  
  
"I just need enough to pay off my loan. One contract's plenty." Tsuyoshi rolled onto his back, taking the contract with him. Just how many fetishes could people _have_? "I mean, that's what, three scenes?"  
  
"Four." Shingo sat up, yawning; he was still in nothing but boxers and a bathrobe, one oversized sleeve sliding back as he scrubbed a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. His fingernails were still painted pink from a previous job. "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it, though. Nakai's good at figuring people out."  
  
"What's there to figure out? I mean, besides which of these billion freaky turn-ons I might have." Tsuyoshi fluttered the contract at his roommate. What on earth even _was_ telephone scatologia?  
  
"They're not _freaky_." Shingo snatched the document out of his hands, scanning his answers to the survey. "Preferred position-- top? Tsuyopon, I love you in a mostly platonic way, but you are totally not a top."  
  
"Hey!" Tsuyoshi rolled back towards his roommate, trying to reach around him as he grabbed the pen and turned away. "I could totally be a top if I tried! How would _you_ know?"  
  
"Trust me on this," Shingo replied, holding the contract aloft and scribbling out Tsuyoshi's answer. "And anyway, once Nakai finds a good match for you, you'll be willing to try _anything_."  
  
Tsuyoshi flopped down on the futons again, half curled around his roommate. For some reason, the long-haired man rose up in his mind for a moment, hair falling forward as he thrust roughly into his partner. He blinked the image away, sticking his tongue out at Shingo. "I'll leave the crossdressing to you, thanks. I don't even know what half of all those things _are_."  
  
Shingo grinned, leaning back onto Tsuyoshi's stomach. "Looks like we'll have to do a little research before you make your big debut, then. You off tomorrow night?"  
  
  
Tsuyoshi made it through precisely three hours and fifty-two minutes of peacefully boring convenience store clerking before work once again became _eventful_.  
  
The door chimed, announcing a new customer, and his co-worker elbowed him in the side. "It's that weird guy again," she muttered, watching Tsuyoshi ladle oden broth out for another customer. "If he tries to smoke inside again I swear I'll scream."  
  
Tsuyoshi glanced up, stomach sinking. It was indeed the man with the red necktie, wandering aimlessly between the snack aisles. "I'll deal with it," he muttered back, putting on a smile again for his customer.  
  
The man appeared to make a thorough comparison of his snack choices, pulling items off the shelf and putting them back slightly askew. Tsuyoshi watched from the corner of his eye, though he knew it was obvious he was aware of the man's presence.  
  
The man finally approached the cashier with a pack of shredded squid, flashing Tsuyoshi a smile as he counted out exact change. "Money's a harsh mistress," he said, like he did every time. "Wouldn't want her to get the best of you."  
  
Tsuyoshi nodded politely and bagged the man's squid. "Thank you very much."  
  
The man opened the squid outside the convenience store and proceeded to eat it. Twenty minutes later, he stepped back inside, smelling of squid, and began to peruse the beer case.  
  
"Lovely evening for a beer," he said as he approached the counter again. "You drink, kid?" Tsuyoshi didn't respond, and as usual the man continued on unperturbed. "Better not, 's a waste of money if you ask me." He raised the can at them in a mock toast before stepping outside again and opening the beer.  
  
Tsuyoshi wrinkled his nose where the man couldn't see it. Of course he wasn't drinking, he was barely paying rent as it was. If it wasn't for Shingo... Anyway, this was going to change all that, he was sure of it.  
  
Like clockwork, the man stepped back inside once again, this time browsing through the magazine rack (focusing mainly on the porn magazines, Tsuyoshi noted sourly) before lingering idly by the entrance and, as they'd been expecting from the moment the man had made his appearance, pulled out a pack of cigarettes.  
  
Tsuyoshi's co-worker glared daggers at the man, though thankfully she didn't appear tempted to actually scream. "I'll get it," Tsuyoshi told her, squeezing past and putting on his best fake apologetic smile. If the man wanted to talk, then fine, they'd talk.  
  
"I'm sorry sir, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to smoke outside." The man glanced up, faking surprise.  
  
"Oh, sorry, sorry, lost in my thoughts for a moment there." He followed Tsuyoshi outside, lighting his cigarette as the door slid shut behind them. "Just thinking how sad my poor dear parents would be if I didn't pay off that loan soon, hmm?"  
  
Tsuyoshi ignored the taunt. It was because they _couldn't_ find his parents that they'd started bothering him. "I'll have it paid by the deadline. All of it."  
  
"Oh?" The man raised his eyebrows through the smoke from his cigarette. "Found a way to make money fast, huh? Better hope it's legal." He shrugged, blowing another cloud into the air. "Not my problem, though. Money's money no matter how you get it, right?"  
  
"I'll have it paid," Tsuyoshi told him again, and turned back to go inside. The man laughed after him as the door chimed, sliding shut behind him.  
  
"Total weirdo," Tsuyoshi's co-worker muttered again as Tsuyoshi returned behind the counter. "Y'think he's, like, _dangerously_ weird? Or just--"  
  
She cut off as the door chimed again. The man stepped up to the counter, flashing Tsuyoshi another smile, all teeth now. "Forgot to buy a new pack," he said, reaching for a pocket on the inside of his suit jacket-- and Tsuyoshi froze as cold dark metal glinted only inches from the man's grasp. Surely he wouldn't-- not now-- not _yet_ \--  
  
The man slapped down his empty cigarette pack, watching with knowing amusement as Tsuyoshi fumbled for the keys to the cigarette case. "Always a pleasure doing business with you," he said, leaving exact change on the counter, and disappeared out into the falling dark.  
  
Tsuyoshi took a deep, steadying breath as his co-worker looked at him quizzically. She hadn't seen the gun.  
  
"Probably harmless," he said, with a weak smile, and tossed the empty cigarette pack into the trash.  
  
  
Shingo lifted his head from its comfortable pillow on Tsuyoshi's stomach. "You should quit and just work at my place instead. He'll regret it if he tries anything funny _there_."  
  
"I'm not planning to sign on full time," Tsuyoshi pointed out. "I haven't even started the contract I _do_ have."  
  
"I just want you to be safe," Shingo sighed, giving Tsuyoshi's stomach a rub as he sat up. His nails were rainbow-colored this time. "Which reminds me, it's time for your lesson on the fetishes of humanity! The legal ones, anyway." He lugged a sizable duffle bag out from the corner, unzipping it to reveal more pornographic dvds than Tsuyoshi had ever seen in one place before. "Now just keep in mind that everything you're about to see is completely consensual, okay?"  
  
 _Five minutes later_  
  
"Are you _sure_?!"  
  
"I'll check that one as a no, then."  
  
  
 _Five hours later_  
  
"...maybe."  
  
"Ooh, you like being watched, huh? I knew you had a bit of an exhibitionist streak in you." Shingo yawned, marking the appropriate box on the survey. "Okay, that just leaves the BDSM stuff. This is mostly Goro's specialty, so you probably won't be asked to, but just in case..." He dug through the bag, producing an older-looking dvd. "One of our best sellers," he said with a grin, and popped it into the player.  
  
The faces that appeared on the screen were slightly younger, but still instantly recognizable-- Tsuyoshi had walked in on them _in flagrante_ only a day ago. The long-haired one had an arm slung over the dark-haired one's shoulders, both of them seated naked on a bed as they adjusted the camera. _Good? Good. What do you want to use?_ The dark-haired one kissed his partner's cheek, and they both turned to reveal a variety of objects laid out on the bed.  
  
"Wait, that's--" Tsuyoshi sat up for a better look, despite himself.  
  
"Oh, you've seen them before? I guess they _are_ our biggest stars." Shingo gestured at the screen proudly. "That one's Goro, the BDSM prince-- more like _diva_ , really--" he pointed at the dark-haired one, then moved to the long-haired one, "and that one's Kimura, who, well, he's _Kimura_." Shingo leaned on one arm, sighing wistfully. "He'll do anything, and do it better than it's ever been done before. Never got a chance to work with him, though-- he's been partnered with Goro for years now."  
  
On the screen, Goro ran his fingertips over certain select objects as Kimura watched-- a rope, a blindfold, handcuffs, something frighteningly long and multicolored-- and then sat back with an expectant tilt of his head. Kimura grabbed the objects Goro had chosen, sweeping the rest off the bed in a single motion, and pulled the dark-haired man in for a rough kiss--  
  
"I'll put _maybe_ on here, then," Shingo said with a smirk. "Though I'm not sure if it's the _fetish_ that you're interested in."  
  
Tsuyoshi glanced down and flushed, getting up to head for the bathroom. Exhibitionist streak or not, there were _some_ things he didn't need to share with his roommate.  
  
  
"Oh, you're back," the tiny grandma at the reception desk on the first floor cooed, patting his hand with equally tiny wrinkled hands. She was somewhere in her eighties, and seemed to think that Studio MAP was a prestigious dance school for fine young men. "Don't let them work you too hard today, dearie. Slow and steady wins the race, that's what they say." Tsuyoshi smiled back and dashed for the elevator before his imagination could catch up with him.  
  
Nakai was waiting for him in the lobby this time, once again dressed perfectly from head to toe. He read through Tsuyoshi's answers, rubbing his chin in thought, and then looked up at him sharply through his glasses. Tsuyoshi swallowed.  
  
"Have you ever filmed yourself?"  
  
The question led to one of the other doors down the hallway, this time a small room with only a bed, camera, and chair. Nakai motioned for Tsuyoshi to sit on the bed, fiddling with the camera. "It's clean, if you're concerned." He turned the display screen on the camera so that it was facing Tsuyoshi. "When I leave the room, what I'd like you to do is remove all of your clothing-- including jewelry-- and bring yourself to satisfaction. You may do so any way you like so long as it is on camera." Nakai straightened, glancing up. "Do you have any questions?"  
  
"Um--" Tsuyoshi eyed himself in the display, tilting his head so it wasn't cut off by the top of the frame. "What should I do when I'm done?"  
  
"I'll be outside." There was a knock on the door before Nakai could continue; Nakai opened it slightly to talk to whoever was on the other side.  
  
"It's Kimura again, he's--" Tsuyoshi couldn't quite catch the words, muffled by the door. "--trouble, if you could talk to him--"  
  
"I'll be there in a moment." Nakai closed the door again, and turned to the camera. "Ready?"  
  
Tsuyoshi nodded, watching as the recording symbol popped up on the display screen. Nakai left without a second glance, shutting the door quietly behind him, and then it was just Tsuyoshi and the camera.  
  
And Kimura was somewhere in the building having sex with someone, his subconscious provided.  
  
No, just focus on the camera, he told himself. First things first: start from the top or from the bottom?  
  
He started with his shoes and ended up in his boxers, glancing up at the screen to make sure he was still in-frame as he pulled his shirt off over his head. "Not as easy as it looks," he murmured, giving himself a wry smile. What else? Right, jewelry, though he couldn't see the point why. He took out his earring, carefully setting it aside. That just left his underwear.  
  
He hesitated, glancing at the camera again. Nothing for it if he was going to go through with this. Think of your parents, he told himself, actually no don't think of your parents, think of the money. Think about sex. Think about Kimura--  
  
He yanked the underwear down and kicked it aside, sitting back and spreading his legs. There, that was all of him, completely naked. Not having his earring in made him feel curiously more exposed, he realized; Nakai certainly seemed to know what he was doing.  
  
He had a sneaking feeling Nakai was going to know a lot more after this, too. Slow and steady wins the race, right?  
  
  
Afterwards, he lay there for a second, not sure whether to feel embarrassed or exhilarated, and then grabbed the box of tissues that had been left at the foot of the bed. Should he get dressed? Or was there more he was supposed to do?  
  
He opted for pulling his discarded underwear back on, and poked his head out the door. "Nakai?"  
  
"--your professional responsibility to inform us if you don't want to--" Nakai was down the hallway, talking to-- Tsuyoshi flushed, stepping back. It was Kimura, completely naked and still partly hard, hands on his hips as if this were a perfectly normal state to be in in an office hallway.  
  
Nakai broke away from the conversation, heading towards Tsuyoshi. "Are you done? Oh," he smiled faintly behind his glasses, "you can get dressed again. That will be all for today."  
  
" _This_ is the new guy?" Kimura had followed Nakai, running his eyes up and down Tsuyoshi through the doorway. "Doesn't look like much."  
  
"Kimura, you left your-- oh, is it the new guy?" A new voice joined them from the hallway, peeking over Kimura's shoulder. It was Goro, clad in a bathrobe with a pair of handcuffs still dangling from one wrist. "Ooh, you should give him to me, I'll have him whipped into shape in no time."  
  
"I'll bet." Kimura smirked, leaning on Goro's shoulder. "Getting tired of working with me, are you?"  
  
Goro rubbed his wrists. "I might, if it's gonna take you an _hour_ to get off. Maybe _you_ should try someone new, hmm?"  
  
Kimura glanced at Nakai sharply, as if daring him to say something. "Maybe."  
  
Tsuyoshi looked back and forth between them, folding his arms across his chest defensively, but Nakai simply waved them away from the door, stepping inside. "Off to the shower, both of you. We'll discuss this after you've finished your last scene." He closed the door firmly, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Like herding _cats_ ," he murmured, and then looked up with a professional smile once again. "Right, now let's talk about your next scene..."  
  
  
"About Kimura?" Shingo was in the kitchen, expertly flipping homemade okonomiyaki pancakes in a pair of pajama pants. "Dunno much. He's been there forever-- rumor has it he was Nakai's first hire. No one knows what he did before that, though."  
  
"He wouldn't say?" Tsuyoshi looked up from examining one of Shingo's dvds. He was scheduled to go in again the next day, for something "a little more experimental," as Nakai had put it. From the looks of it, "a little" could mean just about anything.  
  
"No one's had the guts to ask." Shingo emerged from the kitchen with two steaming plates, bonito flakes fluttering behind him. "It's Nakai who's the real mystery if you ask me, though. No one knows _anything_ about him, not even where he was born. Seems to know a lot of people, though."  
  
Tsuyoshi dug into his okonomiyaki gratefully. "You don't think he was yakuza, do you?" That was the last thing he needed, to jump out of one fire right into another...  
  
Shingo blew on a massive chunk of pancake before practically inhaling it. "Dunno. Someone joked he used to be a street walker, but can _you_ picture that?"  
  
Nakai, with his perfect appearance and carefully professional air-- Tsuyoshi shook his head. If anything, _Kimura_ was the more likely candidate-- it was hard to even look at him without thinking of sex, after all. Or maybe that was just Tsuyoshi.  
  
"He takes care of us, though, so I guess that's all that matters." Shingo smiled fondly, gesturing with his chopsticks at Tsuyoshi's skeptical look. "Just you wait, you'll understand why we work for him soon enough. He's not the president of the company for _nothing_."  
  
  
The second filming was once again in the small side room, everything positioned exactly as before. This time, however, there was a variety of objects laid out at the end of the bed, in various shapes, sizes, and for some reason, colors. Nakai followed him into the room carrying a handheld camera.  
  
"You can refuse to do anything you are uncomfortable with," he said calmly, adjusting the settings on the camera. "But until that point, I want you to follow the instructions I give you, and only those instructions."  
  
Tsuyoshi sat on the edge of the bed, dragging his gaze away from the objects back to Nakai. "You'll film me this time?"  
  
"Yes." Nakai turned to the tripod camera, fiddling with it; he didn't turn the display towards Tsuyoshi this time. "You seemed ready based on your performance last time."  
  
Tsuyoshi blushed despite himself. Nakai had watched it-- of course he'd watched it, he was making a porn dvd out of it. Far more people would be watching it by the time this was all over. Hopefully he'd have the loan paid off by then, and could just put all of this behind him.  
  
Nakai switched on the tripod camera, and looked down at the screen on the handheld. "Ready? Then please begin by taking off your shirt."  
  
  
Nakai was very, very good at this, Tsuyoshi thought hazily, gripping the sheets as he worked the vibrator in a little farther. He hadn't known it was possible to be quite this hard, and Nakai hadn't even let him touch himself yet.  
  
"Further." The older man had the camera angled between Tsuyoshi's legs, the glow of the screen reflecting on his glasses. He hadn't looked up once, only giving Tsuyoshi orders in that calm, deliberate tone. "More. Angle upwards."  
  
Tsuyoshi obeyed, sucking in his breath as he found that familiar spot again. Well, familiar _now_ , he corrected himself, his foot accidentally sending the non-vibrating one they'd started out with rolling from the bed.  
  
"Pull it out again." Nakai watched through the camera display. Did he ever actually _look_? Maybe it was all just camera angles to him. "In again. Faster."  
  
Tsuyoshi did, letting out a gasp as he hit harder this time. How did Nakai know so much, anyway, if he wouldn't even look? He wasn't even _turned on_ , by the looks of it-- now that just seemed unfair.  
  
"Harder. Again. Again-- stop." Nakai stepped back to a wider shot. "Close your legs and keep it there."  
  
Tsuyoshi dug his fingers into the sheet fabric, obeying the man's words. Was it possible to come without touching yourself? He had a feeling he was going to find out if Nakai didn't let him soon.  
  
Nakai panned up his body, from the vibrator pinned between his legs to the muscles tensing on his stomach to whatever his expression was at the moment. Tsuyoshi panted slightly as he involuntarily squeezed around the sensation inside him. Maybe just a quick--  
  
"I said don't touch yourself," Nakai admonished, in that same calm tone. His gaze didn't budge from the camera screen.  
  
Tsuyoshi snatched his hand away, brushing damp bangs from his forehead. "I don't think I can--" he mumbled, then inhaled sharply as he squeezed again. It was too much yet not enough, Nakai was going to drive him crazy--  
  
"Turn the vibrator up."  
  
Tsuyoshi glanced down, fumbling for the handle. "How--"  
  
Just for the barest fraction of an instant, Nakai's eyes flicked away from the camera. "There's a--" and then Tsuyoshi's fingers found the switch.  
  
Tsuyoshi arched from the bed with a cry, the vibrator threatening to slide out entirely. He grabbed it, shoving it back in, legs falling open wide--  
  
"Stroke yourself. Fast. Hard." Nakai was next to him, panning from his face down to his neglected cock. Tsuyoshi wrapped his free hand around himself and did as he was told, matching pace with the vibrator unconsciously. He was panting now, eyes falling shut, everything blurring together until he didn't think he could stop even if Nakai ordered him to--  
  
"Come."  
  
Tsuyoshi obeyed.  
  
  
Tsuyoshi stepped out of the shower room, still tingling with newfound sensations, to once again be greeted with the sight of a naked Kimura arguing with Nakai. Did the man ever actually wear clothes?  
  
"--absolutely not, the last thing I need's some kid who doesn't even know what he's _doing_ \--"  
  
"--you said yourself you were getting bored. Would you rather work alone again?"  
  
Nakai glanced over Kimura's shoulder; Kimura turned as well, fixing Tsuyoshi with a sharp glare. Tsuyoshi edged back under the combined scrutiny, wondering if he should flee back into the shower room until things had blown over.  
  
"Has he even had _sex_ before?" Kimura curled his lip in contempt, looking Tsuyoshi up and down again.  
  
"I have!" Tsuyoshi protested, pulling the bathrobe a little tighter. "Just not with-- you know--"  
  
Nakai sighed. "If you don't want to, Kimura--"  
  
Kimura snapped his gaze back to Nakai. "You _know_ what I want."  
  
Nakai met that gaze, and held it. "And you know what _I_ want."  
  
Kimura seemed to deflate at that, dropping his shoulders ever so slightly. He spun around and stalked towards Tsuyoshi, stepping right up into Tsuyoshi's space and looking down at him from inches away. "So you're my new partner, huh? Hope you're ready to have sex with a _guy_ , then. So you can make your precious money and _leave_."  
  
He shoved Tsuyoshi aside and slammed the shower door behind him, leaving Tsuyoshi with a dizzying mix of anticipation and dread. Kimura was going to be his partner. _Kimura_ was going to be his _partner_?  
  
  
"Seriously? That's great, Tsuyopon!" Shingo tackled him with a hug from behind, ruffling his hair. "I told you you wouldn't regret it, he's the best damn top there is."  
  
Tsuyoshi let his head fall back on his friend's shoulder, the events of the day catching up with him. "I don't know, I don't think he likes me very much."  
  
"Don't worry, Goro and I hated each other when we first started, and then we got along great!" Shingo thumped Tsuyoshi's chest and extricated himself, heading for the kitchen. "Though now we hate each other again, so I guess that doesn't help much."  
  
Tsuyoshi rolled onto his side with a yawn. Shingo had favored his bathrobe again today, this time with black bunny boxers and matching slippers. "It doesn't really matter, I'm only doing this to pay off my loan anyway. You'd think Nakai was training me to sign on full or something."  
  
Shingo grinned to himself, digging through the fridge. "He probably is."  
  
"Hmph." Tsuyoshi flopped onto his back, letting his eyes fall shut with another yawn. Flickers of camera lenses and scowling porn stars pricked at his eyelids. "Not if he's not even gonna look the entire time."  
  
Shingo laughed softly. "Did you want him to?" There was a clang of the frying pan being placed on the stove. "That's just the way he does things, don't let it get to you."  
  
"M'not," Tsuyoshi murmured, suddenly feeling as though he was being dragged down into the floor. "Jus' don' wanna feel..." What? Alone? He wasn't, not really, but there was only so much Shingo could do and he didn't dare try to contact his parents and finally having someone telling him exactly what to do was somehow strangely a relief...  
  
He drifted off with the sound of Nakai's voice in his ears, wondering if Kimura had ever felt that way too, all those years ago.  
  
  
Tsuyoshi woke the next day from rather more explicit dreams than usual to find that Shingo had left him a tupperware of pasta, labeled with a smiley-face post-it note on top. The effect was somewhat less charming when he peeled back the post-it to find another one with an equally smiley penis underneath, but he still grinned and tossed the pasta into his bag before dashing off to work.  
  
It was almost eerily quiet that day; the man in the red tie didn't show, much to his co-worker's relief.  
  
"Guess he was harmless after all," she muttered, straightening the magazines on the rack. "Or he finally let loose and got himself arrested."  
  
Tsuyoshi tapped his toes nervously behind the counter and fervently hoped it was the latter. No news wasn't particularly reassuring, in his case.  
  
By the time he stepped out the door into the darkening night, he was jittery and on edge enough that his co-worker had noticed, squinting at him from the counter. "You gonna be all right?"  
  
There was no one loitering outside the door, no can of beer or smoking cigarette. Maybe there really was nothing to worry about. He glanced back with a smile. "Yeah. Thanks."  
  
The man had probably just gotten bored, he thought. The deadline they'd told him was getting close; maybe they were waiting, now, waiting to see if he'd come through with the money--  
  
"Lovely evening," a voice said, as Tsuyoshi turned the corner of his usual route home. It was the man in the red tie, leaning casually against the wall with the dogend of a cigarette. "We're waiting," he added, flashing his teeth, the color of his tie gleaming darkly in the streetlight. "Best not keep us waiting too long."  
  
Tsuyoshi stumbled away. "I'll-- I'll pay, I promise--" He took off running, not daring to look back, not even when the man laughed after him through the darkness. He had to get home, somewhere safe, somewhere he wasn't alone--  
  
He reached the apartment breathless, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it tight. Had the man followed him? He couldn't risk it, couldn't lead them back here to--  
  
Shingo turned from where he was lounging on the futons, his face lighting up in a grin. "Hey, you all right? You look winded."  
  
\--to Shingo, happy and gentle and carefree, the one person who had smiled at him and taken him in and fed him and _cared_ about him-- Tsuyoshi stumbled out of his shoes and threw himself on top of Shingo, hugging him tightly. "It's nothing," he lied. "Thank you for the pasta."  
  
"Oof! Well, if you say so." Shingo ruffled his hair. "I should make pasta for you more often if it means you tackling me down onto the futons afterwards."  
  
He couldn't let Shingo worry about it; his friend had done too much for him, he couldn't let him get mixed up in this mess. He'd take care of it himself, alone.  
  
  
Nakai led him to the shower first, this time. "We'll be waiting in the main studio when you're ready."  
  
Tsuyoshi cleaned himself as thoroughly as humanly possible, the previous night's events suddenly dreamlike in the face of his first real experience with another man. Was Kimura in there? What were they going be asked to do, in their very first scene together? ...Was Nakai going to be watching?  
  
The studio was rearranged from the last time Tsuyoshi had seen it, now featuring a set designed like a small kitchen. Two cameras were positioned around it, a third carried by a cameraman in consultation with another staff member. There were quite a few people involved in porn filming, he thought distantly, clutching his robe around himself.  
  
"Decided to grace us with your presence this time?" Tsuyoshi turned to see Kimura tossing his own bathrobe aside on a chair. He was about to respond indignantly when he realizing Kimura hadn't been addressing him; Nakai was approaching them from across the room, still managing to look impeccable with his sleeves loosely rolled up.  
  
"You'll be wearing this." Nakai handed Tsuyoshi an apron. A very _short_ apron. "Pretend to cook until Kimura comes in."  
  
Kimura watched openly as Tsuyoshi changed, one hand on his hip. "Lube?"  
  
"Bottle next to the stove." The older man's eyes flicked towards Kimura behind his glasses, then back to Tsuyoshi. "Ready?"  
  
Tsuyoshi nodded, feeling rather more exposed than if he'd actually been naked, and stepped onto the set. It was warm, almost hot, under the stage lights; he picked up a spoon and hovered over a pot that had been placed on the stove, glancing nervously up at the cameras.  
  
"Try to look at the cameras as little as possible. Action!"  
  
Tsuyoshi dragged his gaze back down, pulse abruptly rising in his ears. Any second now, any second--  
  
"'Morning. Making breakfast?" Kimura strode in, combing his hair back lazily with one hand, yawning as though he'd just woken moments ago. "Smells good."  
  
What was he supposed to be? Tsuyoshi's boyfriend? Tsuyoshi flashed a smile at him, stirring the pot. "Thanks. I'm not very good at cooking, though."  
  
Kimura stepped in close behind him, settling his arms around Tsuyoshi's shoulders and nuzzling his neck, tongue flicking out to catch at his earring. "I'm sure it'll taste good. Just like you."  
  
Tsuyoshi gasped, nearly dropping the spoon. "You'll-- you'll make me burn our breakfast--"  
  
"I'd rather have _you_ anyway," Kimura murmured, trailing his fingers down the front of the apron. He toyed with Tsuyoshi's nipples, pressing in closer so that his cock was flush against Tsuyoshi's exposed bottom.  
  
"But-- ah!--" Tsuyoshi arched back as Kimura's teeth grazed his neck, all act forgotten. Shingo had been right-- Kimura knew exactly what he was doing, and Tsuyoshi was only too happy to let him. He'd been half-imagining this ever since he'd first set eyes on the man, really. Though it'd be nice if Kimura didn't seem to _hate_ him.  
  
Kimura slid one hand downward, teasing his fingers over the fabric where Tsuyoshi was poking through. "You can do better than _that_." He rubbed at Tsuyoshi's erection through the apron, rocking his hips against him in slow rhythm. "Show me how hard you can get."  
  
Through the cameras and staff surrounding them, Tsuyoshi could see Nakai watching the monitors, calm, distant, calculating. He closed his eyes and tilted his neck to give Kimura better access.  
  
Kimura ran his teeth over the back of Tsuyoshi's neck, biting and licking his way downward, running his hands along Tsuyoshi's sides before suddenly gripping his hips firmly. "Bend over," he commanded.  
  
Tsuyoshi gripped the counter, still clutching the spoon. Was Kimura going to-- he made an involuntary noise as something warm and wet found him, pushing its way in. Kimura's tongue, oh god, Kimura was _licking_ him, teasing and sucking and plunging in deeper. He'd been a little weirded out by the idea before, but he _definitely_ didn't mind it now.  
  
"You like that," Kimura observed with a smirk in his voice. He rose, pulling Tsuyoshi back against him again, the other hand slipping under the apron. "You want more?" He brushed his fingertips up and down Tsuyoshi's cock, nuzzling at Tsuyoshi's neck again. "Tell me you want more."  
  
"I want more," Tsuyoshi said quickly, breath hitching. How could someone make a person they didn't even like feel so _good_? "I want _you_. Please."  
  
Kimura spun him around, eyes dark. He glanced over Tsuyoshi's shoulder, just for an instant, and then shoved Tsuyoshi against the counter, grabbing under his thighs and heaving him up onto it. "Beg me for it."  
  
He threw back the apron and wrapped his mouth around Tsuyoshi's cock, taking him in almost all at once. Tsuyoshi moaned involuntarily, grabbing for something to hold onto, sending the spoon clattering to the floor. "Ah-- please--" Kimura gripped his thighs, spreading them farther apart, working his mouth up and down slowly.  
  
The lights seemed to grow hotter, dizzying heat pulsing through Tsuyoshi's veins. He could hear faint steps on the set, knew if he opened his eyes there would be a cameraman, filming everything up close and personal. Nakai would be watching that, he thought hazily. But not _them_. Kimura pulled back for a moment, swiping his tongue over the tip teasingly. "Well?"  
  
"More--" Tsuyoshi gasped as Kimura gave the head a sharp suck. "Please--" He clutched at Kimura's shoulders, hands sliding down to splay over what skin he could reach. "Kimura--"  
  
Kimura made a faint noise and slid his lips down again, his grip on Tsuyoshi's thighs tightening as he worked his tongue and cheeks, faster now, harder. He had to be getting close, everything felt good, so good, everyone might be watching but it was okay if it was Kimura, _you'll be willing to try anything_. "Kimura--" he panted, fingers tangling into the older man's hair. Kimura moaned again, redoubling his efforts until Tsuyoshi was sure he couldn't take anymore-- "--Kimura--ah--please--I _need_ you--"  
  
With one last shuddering suck, Kimura made him come.  
  
When Tsuyoshi had caught his breath, the older man extracted himself, looking oddly dazed. It was silent for a moment; then footsteps echoed across the room and Nakai was there, holding a tissue out in his palm. "Spit."  
  
Kimura did, his eyes lingering on the other man's face. Nakai crumpled the tissue quickly. "Very interesting. I take it you won't be needing another partner?"  
  
He nodded downward, and Tsuyoshi realized why Kimura was so out of it. He hadn't had the fortune to be nearly as neat as Tsuyoshi, either.  
  
Kimura glanced at Tsuyoshi, then back to Nakai-- "Fuck you," he said hoarsely, and stalked out of the room.  
  
  
"What a dick! Well-- I mean--" Goro waved his hand airily, taking another sip of wine. "You get the point. But seriously, all that time he just needed to suck someone's cock to get off?"  
  
Tsuyoshi peeked out from behind his fingers, the only way he'd been able to finish telling the story. He'd run into Goro on the way out, which had somehow turned into the older man treating him and Shingo to drinks at his favorite bar; between the events still running through his head and the increasingly escalating conversation, Tsuyoshi was immensely glad Goro had gotten them a private room.  
  
"He's sucked _yours_ plenty of times," Shingo pointed out, smirking over his beer. His nails were sparkly gold from the job they'd picked him up from, which he'd been all too happy to tell Goro about in detail. "Maybe Tsuyopon's tastes better."  
  
Goro sniffed, lifting his chin. "He's not _picky_ like _some_ people." He tilted his head, eyeing Tsuyoshi appraisingly. "But something obviously turned him on. I still say Nakai should've given you to me, though-- I've got far more... _applicable_ skills I could teach you."  
  
"Hey, no perverting my Tsuyopon!" Shingo wrapped an arm defensively around Tsuyoshi's shoulders. "He's got a long and successful career as a totally vanilla bottom ahead of him."  
  
"I'm just on a short contract," Tsuyoshi protested, though neither of the two men seemed to hear him. At this rate, everyone at Studio MAP except the person he was actually partnered with was going to think he was in this to become a full-blown porn star. "But anyway, he mostly seemed pissed that Nakai was making him _stay_ with me."  
  
"Well, that's Kimura for you." Goro smiled wryly. "He never did like being bossed around. Nakai's probably the only one he can't say no to."  
  
Shingo leaned forward, his arm still slung over Tsuyoshi's shoulders. "What's up with that, anyway? Does he owe Nakai or something?"  
  
Goro shrugged, raising his wine again. "If he does, he never told me. I always got the feeling they knew each other from way back, though, before the company even started."  
  
They'd known each other for that long? Well, they did seem to have a certain familiarity between them, even if they were practically at opposite ends of the spectrum. _And you know what_ I _want._  
  
"Just like us, then!" Shingo ruffled Tsuyoshi's hair fondly. "Well, except for the whole boss-of-the-porn-studio-you-work-at-thing. I guess that makes things complicated. But anyway, enough about them, let's talk about Goro!" He grinned in a not very innocent way. "Did you know there are _three_ seperate incidents in which Goro nearly got himself fired?"  
  
Goro sputtered into his wine. "I did not! At least not the last one!"  
  
"Close enough. Anyway, the first time was about three years ago, and-- you know what a strap-on is, right, so..."  
  
Tsuyoshi pushed aside the odd pang of jealousy he'd felt for a moment, and leaned in to listen to his friend's story.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day arrived with a thundering headache and a lead weight on his back. Tsuyoshi groaned, rolling over; the lead weight turned out to be Shingo, somehow curled halfway out of his futon to use Tsuyoshi as a pillow. Despite the gonging in his head, Tsuyoshi managed to smile at that. Then he shoved Shingo off and went in search of a glass of water.  
  
After two glasses and an unsuccessful search for hangover cure, Tsuyoshi heard something buzz in his bag. He fumbled his cell phone out from the depths and squinted at the screen.  
  
_Back soon. Love, mom._  
  
"Huh?" Tsuyoshi sat back on the floor, the room spinning slightly. "No, no, no, don't come back," he told the phone desperately, rubbing his eyes. That was the worst thing they could do. Just a little longer, he'd have it all taken care of, he couldn't even tell them that because those guys were probably monitoring his phone-- hell, they might even be able to track where his mother had sent the message _from_ \--  
  
He glanced at the time, and swore. His real job-- the one he could tell people about, anyway-- awaited.  
  
  
The convenience store luckily stocked a wide variety of hangover cures, and once the symphony in his head had finally quieted down Tsuyoshi was able to reason with himself. Surely the loan sharks wouldn't bother to monitor his cell phone, that sort of thing cost money and they already had their sights on _him_. He wasn't going to risk contacting his parents just yet, though. The deadline wasn't far off now, he'd be paid by then and his contract would be done, no need to worry about Nakai or Kimura or anyone anymore. Then it would be... back to just working part-time jobs day in and day out.  
  
He had to admit that part didn't sound very appealing.  
  
"No sign of that guy today, either," his co-worker remarked, straightening the inventory in the snacks aisle. "Maybe he really did get arrested."  
  
"I wish," Tsuyoshi yawned, earning an odd glance from her.  
  
It wasn't until he was getting ready to leave that he remembered he couldn't head home the way he normally did. The man in the red tie would be waiting for him.  
  
Better not to risk it at all. There was an internet cafe somewhere in the area, wasn't there? It'd cost him, but it was just for a few nights, just until he'd gotten everything taken care of.  
  
"You sure you're alright?" His co-worker followed him to the door, glancing out at the darkening sky. "You don't _look_ alright."  
  
Tsuyoshi managed a weak smile, stepping out into the street. "It's nothing, don't worry." No need to get anyone else involved, after all.  
  
He struck out for the main road, the opposite direction from his usual path. Maybe if he was lucky, they wouldn't even notice--  
  
Footsteps began to echo behind him before he'd even made it halfway.  
  
Tsuyoshi glanced back-- it was him, of course it was him, there really wasn't any escaping, was there? Even if he ran to the main road, the man would still know where he'd gone, even an internet cafe might not be safe because who knew what he might be capable of-- Tsuyoshi turned a corner and started to run.  
  
The footsteps started running, too, chasing after him as he raced ahead, turning this corner and that until he was completely lost but didn't dare stop, if he could just lose the guy, if he could just get away and hide somewhere--  
  
He raced around another corner and ran smack into someone in the dark.  
  
"The _fuck_ \--" the person growled, then stopped. " _Tsuyoshi_?"  
  
Tsuyoshi staggered back, blinking; it took him a full second to recognize the man, probably because he'd never seen him actually wearing clothes before. " _Kimura_? What're you doing here?"  
  
Kimura lifted a cigarette to his mouth, staring at him. "I live here." He glanced past Tsuyoshi as footsteps rounded the corner. "Friend of yours?"  
  
The man in the red tie had one hand halfway out of his jacket, the gleam of dark metal just barely visible. He paused, taking in the new situation, and flashed a toothy smile at Tsuyoshi. "Friend of _yours_?"  
  
Tsuyoshi edged away, glancing back and forth between them. If he ran now, he wouldn't get Kimura involved in this--  
  
"Yes," Kimura said, before Tsuyoshi could make a move. He blew a cloud of smoke between them, eyeing the man sharply as if daring him to step closer. "He's mine."  
  
The man held Kimura's gaze for a moment longer before stepping back, hiding the gun again. "For now, then. Have a lovely evening." He flashed Tsuyoshi another smile-- it seemed much less amused this time-- and sauntered away into the dark.  
  
Kimura ground his cigarette out and grabbed Tsuyoshi's wrist, dragging him towards the building behind them. "Get inside."  
  
Kimura's apartment wasn't much different from Shingo's, though instead of sprawled futons and knickknacks crammed everywhere it was clean and orderly, almost sparse except for a guitar and a handful of Native American decorations. Kimura peered out the window, still gripping Tsuyoshi's wrist, until he finally let out a sigh. "Shit."  
  
Tsuyoshi had to agree. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get you involved. There's a net cafe somewhere around here, right? I'll just--"  
  
"You're staying," Kimura said, letting go of Tsuyoshi's wrist and brushing past him to head into the kitchen. He stirred a pot that was already simmering on the stove, lifting the spoon to taste what appeared to be tomato sauce.  
  
Tsuyoshi lingered in the doorway uncertainly. "I'll be alright. It's just a loan my parents made, I'll have it paid off soon."  
  
Kimura glanced up sharply, cutting off any further protest. "Go sit down. I've got enough for two." He lifted a second pot from the stove, turning to drain it in the sink. Tsuyoshi glanced at the stove-- or rather, the counter next to it-- and blushed, quickly retreating into the living room.  
  
Now what? He sank down on the couch, clutching his bag. The man really _had_ followed him this time, he'd even started to pull his _gun_ out, had he been going to _shoot_ Tsuyoshi oh god what would happen next time he wasn't even going to make it to the deadline--  
  
"Hey." Kimura stood in front of him, carrying two plates. "You gonna join me?"  
  
Tsuyoshi dropped his bag and scrambled over to the low table in front of the tv. "Thanks," he murmured, staring down at the food. Kimura had made meat sauce pasta, with asparagus and mushrooms on the side. It looked delicious. He wished he had more appetite.  
  
"Your parents," Kimura said after they'd eaten in silence for a moment. "It's their loan?"  
  
Tsuyoshi nodded, swallowing hastily. "It was, anyway. We've never had much money, and my dad, well... I guess he didn't know any better." He stabbed at a piece of aparagus. "I'd been living off part-time jobs on my own, so I only found out when they went into hiding and the collector came around to my apartment."  
  
Which they'd quickly driven him out of, banging on the door at all hours and sliding threatening notes in through the mail slot. It had been nothing short of a miracle to run into Shingo at the train station, all of his remaining possessions crammed into his bag as he scanned the map for someplace to go.  
  
"So you joined a porn studio." Kimura frowned, twirling another bite of pasta. "You really think they're gonna leave you alone if you pay up? That guy's _yakuza_ , not a real debt collector."  
  
"I know, but--" Tsuyoshi set down the fork. "I can't _not_ pay it. They'll just get rid of me and then-- and then go after someone close to me, like my parents-- or you-- or--"  
  
Kimura stood in a clatter of utensils and stalked into the kitchen, yanking the fridge open. He returned with two beers, setting one in front of Tsuyoshi with a thud and cracking his own open. Tsuyoshi stared at him, wondering how he'd managed to get the older man so pissed off _this_ time. Maybe Kimura didn't like people who let other people control their lives.  
  
"Do you hate me?" He glanced down at the pasta again, twirling the fork with even less appetite than before. "It's okay if you do, it's just-- I don't want to have sex with someone who _hates_ me."  
  
Kimura looked startled for a second, then laughed humorlessly. "I don't think I've ever met anyone so fucking _nice_ in my life." He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I don't hate you. I'm just... fucked up, that's all."  
  
"Huh?" Tsuyoshi looked up in confusion. "I thought you were pissed when Nakai told you to keep working with me."  
  
Kimura reached for his beer again, narrowing his eyes. "Because he _knows_ what I want. How can he fucking look me in the eye and tell me that like it doesn't even matter?" He thumped the can back down on the table viciously. "All he can see is his damn company now."  
  
"What _do_ you want?" Tsuyoshi asked before he could stop himself, inexplicably hoping that it was something that he could somehow help with. Not that he had anything to give, but despite his anger Kimura actually seemed somehow... miserable.  
  
Kimura hesitated, regarding him for a moment. Then he grabbed his fork and began to eat again. "Something I'm never gonna have," he said, one corner of his mouth quirking bitterly, "but can't live without. Fucked up, huh?"  
  
Tsuyoshi was trying to figure out what Kimura could possibly be talking about when a buzz interrupted them. He dug into his bag, hoping it wasn't another message from his parents. Something fluttered off onto the floor as he pulled his phone out-- the post-it notes Shingo had drawn must have gotten stuck to the inside of his bag. Kimura reached for them, gazing at the top one before flipping it back to see the second drawing. "Charming. Girlfriend?"  
  
"Shingo. I'm staying with him." Tsuyoshi opened his phone to find a message from said roommate: _where are you???_  
  
_Kimura's_ he texted back. "Though I guess I won't be after this. I don't want them to go after him, too." His phone buzzed again. _WHAT_  
  
Kimura grabbed his wrist, making him nearly drop the phone. "You're staying at the company tomorrow. You can't protect everyone around you when _you're_ the one who needs protecting."  
  
Tsuyoshi blinked at him, his wrist tingling in a not altogether unpleasant way. "Huh? But I--"  
  
"I don't care if you quit afterwards," Kimura said, dropping his wrist, and turned back to the table, reaching for his beer again. "But while you're my partner I'm not going to let anything happen to you."  
  
Tsuyoshi set his cell phone down, rubbing his wrist. _He's mine_ , the words Kimura had said earlier drifting back into his head. Maybe Kimura had meant it. He had an odd way of caring about people, but-- Tsuyoshi found he didn't mind in the least. It was like with Nakai, it was actually kind of... nice. "Okay," he replied simply, and reached for the beer Kimura had set out for him.  
  
It wasn't until he was curled up on Kimura's couch, Kimura himself stretched out in his futon on the floor, that he wondered again what it was that Kimura wanted. Something that he couldn't have, something unspoken in the space between Kimura and Nakai when they argued, seemingly as distant and unreachable as the older man himself--  
  
A thought struck him, and he gazed down at the figure on the floor. It made sense, little moments adding up into something that was all too clear and all too painful. No wonder Kimura was angry, so close and yet always so far...  
  
"Kimura," he murmured, waiting for an answering rustle in the dark. "If it makes you so unhappy, why don't you just quit?"  
  
Kimura was silent for a moment, then rolled onto his side, turning away. "I told you. I don't know how to live without it."  
  
  
"Back for more, dears? I do hope you're getting plenty of rest in between." The grandma smiled at them kindly over the desk. "But my, it's wonderful to see a senior taking such good care of his junior."  
  
Kimura gave her a winning smile, guiding Tsuyoshi with a firm hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll be sure to look after him _very_ well."  
  
Kimura's hand stayed there all the way from the elevator to Nakai's office, where Nakai glanced at it from behind his glasses and sat back on the edge of his desk, arms folded. "What now?"  
  
"He needs to stay here tonight," Kimura said before Tsuyoshi could open his mouth. "Don't tell me no, I know you sleep here sometimes."  
  
"Only when I'm working late," Nakai replied, fixing Tsuyoshi with a sharp look. "Of course you can. Should I ask for a reason?"  
  
"Um." Tsuyoshi fidgeted under that gaze, suddenly feeling very small and ashamed. Despite Kimura's words the previous night, he wasn't sure how pleased Nakai would be to hear that he'd joined his company just to pay off a loan to some yakuza. He definitely didn't want to _dis_ please Nakai. "Maybe not yet? I just, well, I just need to finish my contract as soon as I can."  
  
"I see." Tsuyoshi just barely caught the glance that passed between Nakai and Kimura before the former continued on. "Speaking of that, we need to plan your next scene. Since the previous one turned out a bit... shorter than expected, it'll need to be more elaborate this time-- I've thought up some scenarios that might--"  
  
"No." Kimura let go of Tsuyoshi's shoulder, stepping forward. "I don't want you to decide."  
  
Nakai straightened, meeting the taller man's gaze. "Oh? And what do you suggest instead?"  
  
Kimura glared back at him. "We'll film tomorrow. _I'll_ decide what we do."  
  
Tsuyoshi looked from one to the other, brain bouncing from the idea of Nakai thinking up things for him and Kimura to do to the idea of _Kimura_ thinking up things to do to him, and shifted unsteadily on his feet. "I'll do whatever you tell me to," he blurted out, and quite honestly meant it.  
  
Both of them glanced at him for an unnerving second, and then Nakai sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Tomorrow at one. Just make sure it's something we can set up on short notice."  
  
"Fine." Kimura turned, giving Tsuyoshi one last odd, unreadable look. "Stay here," he said, and then brushed past him out the door.  
  
  
After a rather tedious afternoon of watching tv in the empty lobby and peeking into the extra rooms (with the exception of the extremely well-organized storage closet, which had been simultaneously fascinating and terrifying), Tsuyoshi found himself directed to use the shower and meet Nakai in his office. It felt a lot like getting ready for a shoot, he thought as he dried his hair and wrapped himself in one of the company bathrobes. It wasn't as though Nakai was going to do anything to him, but it still gave him a thrill of anticipation to pad down the hallway and knock on the far door.  
  
Admittedly, he wouldn't _mind_ if Nakai wanted to do something to him-- he pushed the thought aside hastily as Nakai answered.  
  
Nakai was at his computer, the screen reflecting a blue glow on his glasses. "That late already?" He sat back with a stifled yawn. "I'll go prepare the room. I'm sure you don't want to sleep with a camera looming over you." He rose, and paused, glancing back down at the screen. "We finished editing the scene from the other day. Did you want to watch it?"  
  
Tsuyoshi blushed. Did he want to watch himself get sucked off by Kimura? _Maybe. Kind of. Yes_ \-- "Um, sure, I-- I guess so?" Nakai might have smirked faintly, but once Tsuyoshi was seated behind the desk he pressed play and left the room.  
  
It was both arousing and mildly embarrassing, Tsuyoshi decided, shifting uncomfortably in the chair by the time Kimura hoisted him up onto the counter. It was easier to ignore the sounds you made when you were busy _making_ those sounds. Kimura barely seemed to be paying attention to him, anyway-- it was hard to miss the way he looked straight at the camera before going down on him, and when the angle changed it was obvious the older man had his eyes closed. Whatever-- or _who_ ever-- Kimura had been thinking of, it definitely hadn't been Tsuyoshi.  
  
He'd liked being called by his name, though, if what the camera had managed to catch was anything to judge by.  
  
The video ended, and Tsuyoshi glanced around the office a little guiltily; it was a bit surreal to be watching porn in what was ostensibly his boss's office. Still, Nakai hadn't come back yet. He looked at the screen, debating whether to watch the video again, when he noticed there was another video minimized on the taskbar. He hovered the cursor over it for a moment, conscience warring with curiosity, and then clicked.  
  
It was Kimura, much younger and thinner, sprawled on a dingy futon with one hand wrapped around himself. Tsuyoshi pressed play before the thought even occurred to him not to, watching as Kimura stroked lazily, gazing at the camera. _Go faster_ , someone said, and Tsuyoshi leaned in. _Faster, come on Kimura, we need this._  
  
The voice was unmistakeable, and as the camera shifted to focus between Kimura's legs Tsuyoshi could see a hand on the futon, trembling from the weight of keeping the camera steady. _More, use your fingers, keep going_. Kimura's breath hitched, his hand obediently moving faster. _I'm gonna get us out of here, out of this shithole life, no one's gonna make us do anything we don't want to ever again so_ keep going--  
  
"Nakai," Kimura panted, arching into his own touch. "Fuck me."  
  
The door to the office opened, and Tsuyoshi jumped, hastily pausing the video and minimizing it again. Nakai stepped halfway into the room, holding the door open. "Done?" Tsuyoshi nodded guiltily, quickly getting up to follow the older man down the hall. He had a feeling Nakai could see right through him, or least through the flimsy bathrobe he was wearing.  
  
It was the small side room from before, this time with a thick cover laid over the bed and no camera in sight. Tsuyoshi sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the bathrobe around him to hide his lingering arousal.  
  
Nakai didn't seem to pay it any mind. "I've got a bit more work before I turn in as well. I'll be in my office if you need anything."  
  
"Thanks," Tsuyoshi mumbled, the recollection of the last time he'd been in this room with Nakai overlapping with the image from the past he'd just caught a glimpse of. There was still a chair next to the door, he could almost imagine Nakai simply sitting there and telling Tsuyoshi what to do in that calm voice, this time with no camera in the way-- but the desperate echo of the younger Nakai was still ringing in his ears, from a time when he _hadn't_ been so calm. Whatever life Nakai and Kimura had lived before, Nakai had gotten them out of it somehow; there had been a reason he'd started the company, and it was too important to him to cross that sort of line. However much someone might want him to.  
  
"Nakai, is there anything _you_ want?" The question tumbled out of his mouth as the older man turned to go. Nakai raised an eyebrow at him, and he realized it probably sounded like he was propositioning him. "I mean like, lots of money or happiness or something. I was just thinking about it, so..." he trailed off lamely, looking away.  
  
Nakai leaned against the doorway, a half-smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "And what did you want?"  
  
"Me?" Tsuyoshi considered for a moment. His loan to be paid-- his parents to be safe-- Kimura to get what _he_ wanted-- "I guess I just want to make everyone happy, when it comes down to it."  
  
Nakai laughed. It seemed like the most genuine expression Tsuyoshi had ever seen him make. "I guess joining a porn studio is one way to do that." He sobered again, looking thoughtful. "I... already have what I want, I suppose."  
  
Something in Tsuyoshi's chest sank ever so slightly. "So you're happy, then?"  
  
"Close enough," Nakai said after a moment's pause. "You have to give up things to get what you want, after all. You can't have everything."  
  
"I guess so," Tsuyoshi agreed, picking at the hem of the bathrobe. It made sense. It just sounded like there was something missing to it, somewhere in there. "I guess you just have to decide what it is you really want, then."  
  
Nakai stared at him, and for an instant the calm, professional mask seemed as if it might slip. Then he smiled again with practiced ease. "If it's something you can still have by then. Goodnight." He closed the door, footsteps quietly fading away down the hall.  
  
Tsuyoshi buried himself under the cover, wondering how he'd gotten so involved when he'd only been trying to make a bit of money, just enough to pay his stupid loan and survive another day. It was a _porn studio_ , you didn't go getting attached to the people you worked with. You had to keep things separate, or you'd just end up making everyone unhappy, including yourself.  
  
And yet... he thought of Nakai sitting alone in his office, watching old videos of Kimura from the past they'd once shared. Was anyone really _happy_ like this, either?  
  
He reached for his bag in the dark and pulled out his phone, scrolling to the number Kimura had given him. With a burst of courage, he typed out a message, and sent it off into the night.  
  
  
He woke groggily the next morning to a lead weight on his chest, and cracked his eyes open to the bright sunshine that was Shingo's grinning face.  
  
"Aw dang, he's awake. Guess we can't use the vibrators after all."  
  
"What? What am I supposed to do with all of these now?"  
  
Tsuyoshi woke the rest of the way in a hurry, struggling up onto his elbows. Shingo was perched on top of him, a long black wig trailing over one shoulder, dressed as what really couldn't be called anything other than a _dominatrix_.  
  
"That has to be uncomfortable," Tsuyoshi said, watching as Shingo brushed the wig back with black press-on nails. "What're you doing here?"  
  
"That's the whole point. And _I_ am here," Shingo jabbed a finger at him. "Because I have work. But also because _someone_ didn't come _home_ last night, _or_ the night before, and hasn't had the consideration to tell his poor neglected roommate the juicy details!"  
  
"Juicy?" Goro poked his head into the room, carrying what looked like a plastic bag filled entirely with vibrators.  
  
"They're not really juicy," Tsuyoshi protested. "I just-- needed to stay here for a night, that's all."  
  
" _After_ you spent the night at Kimura's." Shingo put his hands on his hips, looking uncomfortably the part he was dressed as. "What gives, Tsuyopon? Don't make me _tickle_ the truth out of you."  
  
"You spent the night at _Kimura's_?" Goro reached into the bag. "Forget tickling, _I'll_ get the details out of him--"  
  
Someone cleared their throat behind them; it was none other than Kimura himself, leaning against the doorjamb. He brushed past Goro to stand over Tsuyoshi. "Eat these and put this on," he said, depositing a plastic bag and a folded suit on Tsuyoshi's chest, and swept out of the room again.  
  
Shingo peeked into the bag. "Onigiri. Homemade."  
  
"Dick," Goro murmured, but it was with fondness this time.  
  
Tsuyoshi pushed himself upright, reaching for the bag. Had Kimura gotten his message? "He's here already? What time is it?"  
  
"Noon. Goro and I are starting a new series after you guys." Shingo stood, stepping into the stiletto heels he'd thankfully left on the floor. "I guess we could use the vibrators then. Or do you still have that big black one with the--"  
  
Tsuyoshi quickly tuned the conversation out, unwrapping a still-warm onigiri. A suit? What was Kimura planning?  
  
  
Kimura came back at precisely one o' clock, grabbing Tsuyoshi's wrist and leading him down the hall. He was also wearing a suit.  
  
"Do your best, Tsuyopon!" Shingo fluttered his black nails, blowing a kiss.  
  
"You really live with him?" Kimura murmured when they got out of earshot.  
  
"He acts normally at home," Tsuyoshi murmured back. "Sort of."  
  
Nakai was leaning against the edge of his desk again, waiting for them. He took in both of their outfits and lifted an eyebrow, glancing from one to the other expectantly. "Well?"  
  
"Boss and employee," Kimura said, one corner of his mouth curving slightly as if daring Nakai to argue. "In here. And I want _you_ to film it."  
  
Nakai stared at him. Tsuyoshi stared, too. Kimura had definitely gotten his message. But-- in _here_? Was he _crazy_?  
  
"Let me get this straight," Nakai said evenly, taking a step towards Kimura and crossing his arms. "You want me to film you fucking on my desk."  
  
"Just you. No one else." Kimura stepped forward, looking down at the shorter man. Nakai didn't flinch in the slightest, simply held Kimura's gaze with that ever-present mask of calm. This was it, this was too much, Kimura had finally crossed the line that Nakai wouldn't let him cross and now they were both going to pay the price for it--  
  
"Fine. Give me five minutes." Nakai motioned them towards the door, turning towards his desk.  
  
Kimura all but dragged Tsuyoshi out, clutching him by the arms. He looked about as surprised as Tsuyoshi felt, the half-curve at the corner of his mouth pulling into an outright grin. "Ready? Act like you've been called in to see your boss."  
  
"Okay, but-- on his _desk_?"  
  
"You said to do something he couldn't ignore." Kimura straightened Tsuyoshi's tie. "So we're going to give him something to _watch_."  
  
The room had been tidied when they came back in, chairs pushed up against the wall, anything breakable removed from the desk and documents replaced with blank sheets of paper. There was even a bottle of lube thoughtfully nestled among the pens in the pencil holder. At least, Tsuyoshi was fairly sure it hadn't been there before.  
  
Nakai was carrying a handheld camera, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. "If you're ready, then," he said, not looking up. Kimura circled around the desk and sat in Nakai's chair with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. "Start."  
  
Tsuyoshi watched with his breath held as Nakai filmed Kimura, eyes focused in concentration on the camera display. Kimura lounged for a moment, one hand caressing his hair back with almost arrogant grace. Then he flicked a gaze Tsuyoshi's way, which was presumably his cue to enter.  
  
"Ah, sorry to interrupt, sir. You called for me?" Tsuyoshi stepped towards the desk, trying not to look as Nakai panned over to him.  
  
"Kusanagi. Yes, I've been wanting to see you." Kimura tilted his head, leaning back in the chair. "I've heard some excellent things about your performance on the job."  
  
"It's nothing, sir. Thank you." Nakai backed almost to the edge of the room, angling to catch them both in the shot.  
  
Kimura stood, trailing his fingers along the wood as he circled around the desk. "I was wondering what would be the best way to _reward_ you," he said, stopping so that Tsuyoshi had his back to the desk, looking up at him. "I could give you a bonus, of course. Unless... there's something _else_ you might be interested in."  
  
He stepped in closer, backing Tsuyoshi into the desk. "I-- I don't know what you mean, sir," Tsuyoshi stuttered, blushing and glancing down. _That_ part wasn't acting, at least.  
  
"Don't you?" Kimura pressed closer, fingering the top button of his shirt. "Or should I _show_ you?"  
  
"But--" Tsuyoshi watched as Kimura deftly undid one button, then another. "Sir--"  
  
"Call me Kimura," the older man said, and pulled him forward by his tie into a kiss.  
  
Tsuyoshi was more than happy to let Kimura take over from there, moaning into the kiss as the buttons on his shirt fell loose and hands slid inside to caress his skin and tease at his nipples. The suit jacket was shoved down his arms, yanked roughly away to fall to the floor; he leaned into Kimura, clutching at his shoulders as the older man tugged the shirt untucked and trailed expert fingers up his spine.  
  
Kimura broke away from the kiss to nip at Tsuyoshi's neck, exploring downward with his teeth and tongue, one hand sneaking back around to thumb at a nipple. Tsuyoshi clung to him, breath hitching from the combined attack; over Kimura's shoulder, he could see Nakai aiming the camera in closer, his lips parted as he focused on the display. Nakai couldn't stay immune forever, he thought, feeling oddly triumphant.  
  
Kimura pushed him back against the desk, working his way further down to tongue at Tsuyoshi's other nipple and drawing a gasp from him; he grinned mischievously and continued down, undoing the clasp of Tsuyoshi's belt. "Do you want more?"  
  
Tsuyoshi braced his hands on the edge of the desk, the shirt hanging halfway off his shoulders. "Yes. _Please_."  
  
His pants dropped to his ankles, shortly followed by his underwear. Kimura wrapped one hand around him, stroking him harder and watching his reaction; then he leaned in and took him into his mouth, gripping his thighs tightly as he worked his lips and tongue.  
  
Tsuyoshi panted, clutching the desk. Where Nakai had been standing only minutes ago, he thought, glancing up-- he met dark brown eyes behind glasses for the barest fraction of a second before Nakai quickly looked down again.  
  
Nakai had looked. Nakai had _looked_. Tsuyoshi combed his fingers through Kimura's hair as the man teased at the head of his cock. "Kimura-- _ah_ \--" Kimura hmmed softly, though he didn't stop his ministrations. "Kimura, _fuck me_."  
  
_That_ got both men's reaction. Nakai's eyes widened in the glow of the display; Kimura tilted his head at Tsuyoshi for a moment before grinning and rising to his feet. "Is that what you want?" He pressed in close again, nuzzling at Tsuyoshi's jawline. "You want me to fuck you?"  
  
Tsuyoshi managed a nod, and then he was spun around and bent over the desk, hands sliding on the loose papers as Kimura leaned over him. "My pleasure," he growled, sending pens scattering to the floor as he grabbed the lube. He poured it liberally on his fingers, teasing at the entrance, working the tip of one in. Tsuyoshi gasped, crumpling paper under his fingers as Kimura pushed in farther, massaging, now gentle now rough, aiming for that familiar spot--  
  
He moaned, spreading his legs wider to try to let Kimura in further. Kimura worked his finger in and out, moving faster as Tsuyoshi relaxed, twisting his hand around to press down in a way that nearly made Tsuyoshi lose his grip. Then there was more lube, cool and slick, and two fingers this time, he dropped to his elbows, erection pressing against the desk, letting Kimura wedge his legs apart with his own. "-- _ah_ \-- Kimura--"  
  
Nakai circled around the desk, drawing in close to catch Tsuyoshi's expression. He was flushed now, breathing faster. But his gaze stayed fixed on the camera.  
  
Kimura drew his fingers out, reaching for the lube again. "I want you," he murmured breathlessly, and there was a clink as he undid his belt, pulling himself out. Tsuyoshi clutched at the papers again, feeling Kimura line himself up, hands gripping his waist as the older man pushed in. For a blinding moment it was too much, far too much to take, but then there was a hand sliding around to his erection and Kimura was stroking him, roughly, tranforming the friction into pleasure until Tsuyoshi could breathe again.  
  
Just barely. Kimura sank the rest of the way into him, hissing through his teeth, and began to move, letting go of Tsuyoshi's cock in order to brace his hands against the desk. Tsuyoshi grabbed onto the far end, papers scattering to the floor, gasping involuntarily with every thrust. It was Kimura's turn for the moment, Kimura fucking him in front of Nakai, fucking him _for_ Nakai, moving faster and harder and angling down so that whatever was left on the desk quivered with anticipation. This was what Kimura wanted Nakai to see. What Kimura wanted was--  
  
"-- _ah_ \--" Kimura slowed, breath hot on Tsuyoshi's back. "I need more, I need _everything_ \--" He pulled out, twisting Tsuyoshi around by his hips and shoving him up onto the desk. His suit was dishelved, slacks halfway down his thighs; he stripped them the rest of the way off, yanking off the shirt and jacket and tossing them aside. Tsuyoshi managed to work his feet free and then his back hit the scattered papers, Kimura licking a wet stripe up his cock before pushing his thighs wide and plunging himself back in.  
  
There was a sharp inhale somewhere behind Tsuyoshi. Nakai, Nakai was watching-- Tsuyoshi grabbed onto Kimura's arms as the older man thrust into him, letting his head fall back as he moaned. "--Kimura-- _fuck_ \--"  
  
Kimura ducked his head and bit at one nipple, cutting Tsuyoshi off into incoherency. He sped faster, leaning on one arm, reaching down to wrap his hand around Tsuyoshi's cock. "Come," he said, arousal sharp in his eyes. "Come for me, right here."  
  
Tsuyoshi dug his fingers into Kimura's back, friction blurring together into heat unbearable and not enough-- Nakai was next to Kimura now, angling the camera, eyes fixed not on the display but on _him_ \-- he moaned breathlessly, not sure whose name it was that caught on his lips, and spilled into Kimura's hand in a dizzying rush.  
  
Kimura wrapped his other arm around Tsuyoshi's shoulders and kissed him, thrusting roughly until the desk itself rattled underneath them. Then, with a jerk of his hips, he came in a sudden burst of heat, burying himself deep inside Tsuyoshi.  
  
Nakai was still watching them when Tsuyoshi opened his eyes.  
  
Kimura broke away, pulling himself out and staggering back a step. "Nakai," he said, and the other man seemed to startle, glancing down at the camera and then away, anywhere but at the two of them. Kimura reached for the camera, pulling it from Nakai's hands, advancing on him with a look of raw desperation. " _Please_ \--"  
  
Nakai backed away, eyes wide behind his glasses; his legs hit one of the chairs and he collapsed into it, flushed and clearly hard through the front of his slacks. Kimura fell to his knees between Nakai's legs, the camera forgotten on the floor. "Nakai," he breathed, and reached up to tug the glasses away, until there was nothing left for the other man to hide behind. "You _got_ what you wanted. You made all this for us, you got us off the streets and made a new life for us. Everything you wanted. So _please_ ," he gripped Nakai's thighs, looking up at him desperately. "Can't _I_ have what I want, too?"  
  
Tsuyoshi pushed himself up unsteadily, his chest tight as he watched, for Kimura, for Nakai, for both of them...  
  
Nakai met Kimura's eyes, and slowly, tentatively, touched the tips of his fingers to the other man's cheek. "Kimura," he murmured, so soft it was nearly to himself, and for a moment his gaze flicked down to Kimura's mouth, uncertainty and loneliness and longing finally resolving into--  
  
A shot rang out, muffled beyond the door.  
  
They froze for an instant, and then Kimura and Nakai bolted for the door, throwing it open and dashing down the hallway. Tsuyoshi managed to grab his underwear and stumbled after them, yanking it on as he went-- and then froze at the sight in the lobby, lingering afterglow suddenly turning to panic.  
  
The man in the red tie had an arm around Shingo's neck, his gun pointed at Goro. "I'll ask again only once. Where is he?"  
  
Kimura and Nakai both stepped in front of Tsuyoshi, exchanging a glance. "And who might you be looking for?" Nakai asked calmly, crossing his arms as if the man wasn't waving a lethal weapon at one of his employees. Shingo had his eyes fixed on Goro, face half covered by his wig.  
  
The man grinned evilly as he caught sight of Tsuyoshi. " _Him_ ," he said, gesturing with a jerk of his chin. "His money or his life. No one gets away with running from one of _our_ loans."  
  
"I was _going_ to--" Tsuyoshi started, but was cut off as Nakai tilted his head, arms still folded. "Is that so."  
  
He took a step forward. The man moved to point the gun at him-- and the instant the muzzle twitched away from Goro, Shingo stomped a stiletto heel into the man's foot and elbowed him in the stomach, twisting out of his grip. The man grabbed at Shingo's hair, trying to yank him back, but made a startled noise as the wig pulled loose-- quickly followed by a much less describable noise as he was hit in the face with an entire bag of vibrators.  
  
"About _time_ ," Shingo said, grinning at Tsuyoshi. "Don't worry, we'll take care of _him_." Goro smirked, pulling a coil of thick leather from his bathrobe pocket and tossing Shingo something that was long, black, and far too realistically molded.  
  
The man recovered in time to see the two of them looming over him, and waved the gun wildly. "What're you-- get away--" Kimura caught his wrist with a smack, twisting the gun from his fingers and throwing it aside. The man stared at him, eyes wide-- " _You_ ," he choked, and tore away, racing for the stairs.  
  
"After him!" Goro yelled, cracking the whip as he followed Kimura and Shingo down the stairwell in pursuit.  
  
Tsuyoshi chased after them, emerging into the first floor lobby in time to see Kimura tackle the man to the floor, wrestling him facedown and yanking his arms behind him. Goro pressed a knee into the man's shoulder, winding the whip around his wrists and tying what looked like an extremely complicated knot with ease.  
  
"Gotcha!" Shingo crowed, waving the long... _thing_ threateningly at the man's face. The man struggled, sneering at them despite his situation. "Money's money, he's still gonna pay no matter what." He flashed his teeth, laughing mirthlessly. "They'll come after him, they'll come after _all_ of you, you'll see what you owe _then_ \--"  
  
The elevator chimed, and Nakai stepped out. He was carrying the gun.  
  
Kimura pulled the man up by his hair, forcing him onto his knees. "I believe you mentioned something about a loan," Nakai said, looking down at him with icy calm.  
  
The man glared back. "You don't scare me. I know people who could bring down this little business of yours, you and all of your _whores_ \--"  
  
Nakai snapped the gun up into his face, silencing him. "Unlike _your_ business, I assure you mine is perfectly legal." He pressed the muzzle to the man's lips, tilting his head. "But if you insist, we can play that game. How many people do you think _I_ know?"  
  
The man swallowed, trying to pull away. "If you kill me--"  
  
Nakai shoved the gun between his teeth, thumbing the safety back, and pulled the trigger.  
  
There was nothing more than an empty _click_. Nakai retracted the gun, wiping it casually on his slacks. "They _would_ be upset about not getting their money, wouldn't they." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a stack of bills, thumbing through it. "Minus ten thousand for the bullet you put in my wall, that should cover it. Here." He held the money out; the man struggled uselessly with his bound wrists before a look of realization dawned on him, and leaned forward desperately to take the money with his teeth.  
  
"And if I ever see or hear of you again," Nakai continued, producing the ammunition clip from his pocket and reloading it into the gun. "I assure you it will be the _last_ time." He thumbed the safety back again and shoved the gun down the front of the man's pants. "Get out of my sight."  
  
Kimura dragged the man to his feet; he stumbled for the door, throwing it open with his weight, and fled down the pavement with the money clenched tightly between his teeth.  
  
The grandma at the desk burst into applause. "Marvelous, simply marvelous! I never knew you fellows did acting as well!"  
  
Nakai blinked in surprise, and then gave her a small bow, putting on his most charming smile. "Of course, we work hard to suit all _kinds_ of tastes. Though today's act was perhaps a bit... extreme." Shingo quickly hid his weapon of choice from view, lest the receptionist get too close a look at it.  
  
"Not at all, not at all." The grandma patted Nakai's hand as he leaned over the desk. "Really, I simply _must_ see one of your performances one of these days..."  
  
Goro watched the man's retreating form and sighed, shaking his head. "Waste of a perfectly good whip."  
  
"You've got plenty." Shingo slung his free arm over Goro's shoulders, giving Tsuyoshi another grin. "See, Tsuyopon? I told you Nakai takes care of us. Aren't you glad you joined?"  
  
Tsuyoshi smiled back at him, swaying unsteadily as the realization sank in that he'd just been freed from his loan. "Yeah. I-- yeah. Thanks, Shingo." He eyed the _thing_ in Shingo's hand. "Um, that isn't actually supposed to go _inside_ someone, is it?"  
  
"Maybe if you ask Kimura nicely," Shingo replied, waggling it at Tsuyoshi. "Anyway, I expect you to show me just how grateful you are by coming home like a _proper_ roommate this time. And spilling all the details about your sex life."  
  
"Ooh, can I join?" Goro rested a hand on Shingo's leather-clad back, guiding him towards the elevator. "I _did_ just save your life with a bag full of vibrators."  
  
"Excuse me? _I'm_ the one who saved _your_ life with these six-inch death traps you insisted on..."  
  
The door swung open with a clatter, and a middle-aged man came bursting into the room. "Tsuyoshi! Thank goodness we found you, we've been looking all over--" He stopped in mid-sentence, blinking, and Tsuyoshi became painfully aware that he was dressed in nothing but a shirt, underwear, and necktie, and was rather sticky in unmentionable places.  
  
Kimura wrapped his arms around Tsuyoshi's shoulders, pressing into him from behind. He was wearing rather less than Tsuyoshi, come to think of it. "Another friend of yours?" he murmured possessively, eyeing the man.  
  
Tsuyoshi stared at the new arrival helplessly. "He's, um, my dad."  
  
Out the window, he could see his co-worker from the convenience store helping his mother up the street. "We, ah, had to, um, ask the girl at the store where you'd gone." His father made a visible effort to pull himself together. "She said she'd spotted you going into one of her favorite production studios the other day, together with your, ah, um, er--"  
  
"Co-worker," Kimura said, making no motion to let go of Tsuyoshi.  
  
It was the grandma who came to the rescue, shuffling over with her hand on Nakai's arm. "Oh, you must be the family! You just missed a most _wonderful_ performance, I'm sure you must be thrilled that your son has joined such a talented studio." She beamed at Tsuyoshi's bewildered dad, letting go of Nakai's arm and taking his instead. "Don't you worry, he's in _very_ good hands with the seniors he has looking after him."  
  
"Indeed," Nakai agreed. "Now if you'll excuse us, I believe my performers need a bit of time to recover-- could you take care of our guests for a moment?"  
  
The receptionist waved her hand airily, already launching into an excited description of the 'performance' she'd seen. Nakai tugged Tsuyoshi and Kimura away, into the waiting elevator.  
  
Kimura settled his arms around Tsuyoshi again, reflected in the doors as they closed. "So."  
  
Nakai turned abruptly and kissed Kimura, one hand twining into Kimura's hair, the other gripping Tsuyoshi's tie tightly. "Not at work," he said, pulling away just as abruptly and straightening the tie. "You're coming over tonight."  
  
Kimura's arms tightened, and Tsuyoshi was sure he was the only one who could tell the way the older man's pulse skipped ahead. He tilted his head back slightly. "Did that include me?"  
  
Kimura laughed, his lips brushing at the ridge of Tsuyoshi's ear. "I think it did. And I did say you were mine, anyway."  
  
Nakai raised an eyebrow, still holding the end of Tsuyoshi's tie. "Yours?"  
  
Kimura lifted his head with a smirk. "Would you prefer ours?" Tsuyoshi swallowed as Nakai gazed straight at him, no glasses or camera lens between them. "I think I might like that," the older man said, the corners of his mouth twitching as he gave Tsuyoshi's tie another tug. "If that's what _you_ really want."  
  
His loan was paid, his parents were home, Shingo was safe, and Kimura-- above him, Kimura rested his chin on Tsuyoshi's head, his reflection the picture of contentment as he held Tsuyoshi and looked at Nakai. "I don't think there's anything I could want more," Tsuyoshi said, and honestly meant every word.  
  
The elevator doors opened, chatter filling the air as Shingo and Goro picked up the mess and argued about their new series. Nakai gave them both one last lingering look before turning to step out, professional mask sliding back into place. Tsuyoshi leaned into Kimura's arms for a moment, taking in the busy, noisy lobby that was a far cry from the first time he'd set foot inside; it was probably the strangest place he'd ever worked, but somehow, curiously, it almost felt like home.  
  
Kimura bent his head to Tsuyoshi's ear again, his smile curving into something more mischievous. "So, think you're ready for a second contract?"  
  
Tsuyoshi smiled back, feeling ready for anything. "Definitely," he said, and stepped out of the elevator into Studio MAP.


End file.
